


For All the World's Time

by airiat



Series: Taros Andrethi: Nerevarine [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Past Lives, Romance, Smut, nilandur is very cute and taros could not resist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:27:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25239214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airiat/pseuds/airiat
Summary: Taros and Nilandur were lovers in a past life. When they meet again in the present, they're given one night to rekindle that connection. But will that be enough?
Relationships: Original Dunmer Character(s)/Original Altmer Character(s), Taros Andrethi/Nilandur
Series: Taros Andrethi: Nerevarine [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1864447
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	For All the World's Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thanatopsiturvy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thanatopsiturvy/gifts).



> Written for one of my fandom-friends and writerly inspirations, [Thanatopsiturvy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thanatopsiturvy/pseuds/Thanatopsiturvy), featuring their character Nilandur. Topsy, ya really went off with this guy!
> 
> The feeling of this piece is centered around [this song.](https://open.spotify.com/track/68PACVWn8sUs66oziKBD2u?si=NMKuSkpeQOWPP37J6KN30Q)

“I was standing / at the edge of the field– / I was hurrying / through my own soul, / opening its dark doors– / I was leaning out; / I was listening.”  
— Mary Oliver, from New & Selected Poems; “ _White Pine; Mockingbirds_ ”

* * *

He was golden.

He was awash in sunlight, a glittering light that he poured into me. It cut clear through the dark haze of my mind, encircling me until bright white was all that I could see. My eyes stung with tears, but I couldn’t tell if they were from relief, or from the pain that seared in my side. 

His light coaxed my own light back into me, awakening me from the fringe where I found myself trapped, bloodied and broken. As I slowly regained my bearings, what little I even knew, I found myself laying on the ground being healed by a mage, an Altmer.

My frightened mind was quick to react to the potential threat of this stranger. I attempted to rise to my feet, but the mer held me firmly down by the shoulder. Though he had the usual willowy frame of an Altmer, my weakened state allowed him to keep me there.

But my body still screamed at me to do something, anything, because danger was a presence that lingered in the shadows where I could not see it strike. My hand shot out in search of the sword that lay discarded somewhere in the grass. I relinquished hope with a frustrated growl when I could not find it.

“Hush, my dear,” he murmured in a voice that sounded like music. “You’re safe. I’m only healing you. I will not hurt you.”

My throat felt coated in ash as I rasped out barely coherent words. “Who’re you?”

“My name is Nilandur,” he answered.

“Why’re you doing this?”

His eyes widened. “I saw you lying on the side of the road with grave wounds. I couldn’t very well just leave you there like that!”

His response managed to placate me, so I let myself slump back onto the ground. It was practically unheard of for me to let my guard down around someone I knew, much less someone I didn’t. There was just something about him that brought my vigilance crashing down around me.

“What’s your name?” Nilandur asked me.

“Taros,” I answered, the normally well-guarded truth slipping past my lips.

“Taros, do you know what happened to you?”

“Assassins,” I spat. “Finished them before they could finish me, though.”

“Oh, my heavens!” Nilandur exclaimed, looking frantically around him for a moment before pausing. “But, wait, there’s no one…”

He trailed off, returning his attention to me. A crease was pressed into his brow, mouth formed into a hard line. I wasn’t sure what had caused this reaction, but it didn’t concern me. I was far too distracted by the final, blindingly painful sensation of the skin on my ribs being fused back together. I swore, gritting my teeth, grateful when the feeling passed quickly.

“I believe that should be all your injuries taken care of,” Nilandur declared.

He helped me up into a sitting position. The world swam before my eyes for a moment, but I truly felt born anew. Healing magic normally did feel good, but his magic was unbelievable, like he was injecting the warmth of the sun directly into my bones.

Just who was this mer?

“There shouldn’t be any permanent damage, aside from some scarring over your ribs,” he continued. “The wounds there went quite deep. I did as best I could with them.”

I turned to him with a grateful smile.

“All my thanks, Nilandur.”

He looked dazed, staring blankly at me with parted lips. “It--it was no trouble at all,” he finally said. “I’m always glad to help.”

I lumbered to my feet then held my hand out to him. Nilandur paused for a moment as if dumbfounded by the gesture, but he quickly recovered and took it. When he was standing, he made himself very occupied with brushing the dust off his fine robes. I watched, curious at the change in his demeanor. 

“What brings you out here?” I asked. 

He startled at the sound of my voice. “I’m on my way to Winterhold.”

“What’s there?”

“The college. I’m beginning a teaching position,” he said, then looked up at the sky with a horrified expression. “Oh, good heavens, it’s much later than I thought it was!”

“In a hurry?”

He nodded, bending down to collect the knapsack sitting at his feet. “I was supposed to be there by tomorrow afternoon, but now…what a horrible first impression to make.”

In his distress, Nilandur nearly tripped over something on the ground. My sword. When he retrieved it, he stared at it with an intense perplexity, as if he’d never wielded a sword before. Perhaps he hadn’t. A mage like him would have an arsenal of offensive spells up his sleeve, instead.

“My, this is a fine weapon,” Nilandur said at last. “Though its magical properties are quite unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”

Nilandur passed the sword back to me somewhat reluctantly as if he’d wished to study it longer. I was almost ready to let him. His inherent trustworthiness shone even brighter when I was clearheaded, a fact that astounded me. Me, a mer who’d hardly even trust a barkeep to serve me an untainted drink.

“They call it Trueflame,” I told him as I holstered it at my side. “A weapon forged by Dumac as a gift to Lord Nerevar. Allegedly, it’s powerful enough to kill a god. Though, that, I wouldn’t know.”

“Oh, my,” he said, tilting his head and twisting at the ends of his long, yellow hair. “That’s quite an impressive history. Please pardon my boldness, but might I ask as to how you’ve obtained such a sword?”

I smiled a distant smile, my eyes drifting up to the stars that twinkled around Nirn’s two moons. I didn’t have to tell him who I was. I knew that, but I _wanted_ to. I wanted _someone_ to finally hear about those two years of my life. And I wanted it to be the truth that would come from my own mouth, not the inflated, artificial words that have been written about me in history books.

“It was a gift to me from Almalexia,” I said faintly, my gaze still held towards the heavens.

“I’m sorry, did I hear you right?” Nilandur questioned. “ _Almalexia_?”

“You did.”

“But, how…” he began. “Who _are_ you, Taros?”

I tugged myself back down to Nirn and looked Nilandur solidly in the eyes. “I’m the Nerevarine.”

There it was. The truth laid out raw and naked onto the grass at our feet.

“The Nerevarine? You mean the mer that defeated Dagoth Ur?” Nilandur stammered. “Heavens, I thought...I thought that was only a tale. That was you?”

The color had drained from his face, and he began to sway as if he might collapse at any moment. I quickly stepped forward and held him by the arm, letting him find his balance. He leaned against me. Even though he was taller than me, his slight frame made him no more burdensome than carrying a stuffed backpack. 

“I--I’m so sorry for the embarrassing state I’m in,” he said, rubbing at his eyes. “I’ve been traveling for such a long time now. It’s left me quite weary.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” I said with a light chuckle. He really was very sweet, and it didn’t hurt that he was also quite attractive. “I can help you get to an inn if you’d like.”

“That would be lovely,” he answered. “Do you know of any around here?”

“I, uh, don’t actually know where we are,” I admitted. What I didn’t share, however, was how I didn’t even remember how I got there in the first place.

Nilandur laughed his musical laugh. “I suppose that makes the both of us not at our best tonight,” he said. “We’re in Eastmarch, three or so miles south of Kynesgrove, I believe.” 

“Ah, well, there’s an inn in Kynesgrove--a shabby one, mind you, but a place to sleep nonetheless…”

“That’s quite alright with me,” he said. He stepped away from me, motioning forward with a smile. “Lead the way, if you please.” 

“Gladly,” I responded.

And we were off.

~~~

When we arrived at the Braidwood Inn, the moons were halfway through their descent towards the horizon. All was quiet and peaceful in the village.

We hadn’t spoken much during the trip, either, the two of us content not to sully it with empty chatter. Nilandur had continued to surprise me with the ease I felt around him, how it even seemed as if our minds existed on the same plane together. I could tell that if I had really wanted to prattle on about my latest theories regarding the nature of Aetherius, he would have listened, listened, and understood. 

However, the trip had also panned out to be dangerous at times. It was southeastern Skyrim, where the settlements were spaced further apart and wildness sidled up against you like a pack of starving wolves, of which we did encounter. That, and a small group of bandits. It became quickly apparent Nilandur was out of his element in anything pertaining to combat. He did have a few tricks under his belt, as I’d suspected, but those spells were meant only to incapacitate, not to draw mortal blood. Thus, it was left up to me to end the skirmishes. I didn’t mind.

Nilandur and I stumbled through the door of the inn desperate to get off our feet. The place was barren; the only diversion from the silence was the crackling fire in the large pit at the center of the room. We approached the barkeep who leaned idly against the bar, looking every bit like she’d rather have been asleep.

“Drew the short straw tonight?” I asked her with a sympathetic smile, mustering up as much congeniality as I could under the circumstances.

“Looks to be that way,” she grumbled, no attempt even made to match my energy. I could hardly blame her. “What’ll it be tonight, then, lads?”

Nilandur spoke up before I could answer. “Two rooms, please,” he said, then turned to me.

“I’d like to cover yours for you, as thanks for escorting me here,” he said.

I shook my head. “I appreciate it, Nilandur, but there’s no need.”

“Please, I insist,” he urged.

“No, really--”

“ _For the love of Talos_ ,” the woman snapped. “There’s only one room available, anyway. Lucky for you two, it’s also the only one with a double bed.”

Then, she muttered something that sounded like: ‘ _Nine only know you need it_.’

“Thank you,” Nilandur said with a slight bow of his head. “That’ll do.”

She nodded, relief flickering over her face. “Fifteen for the night.”

With a quick flash of his hand, Nilandur placed the coins on the bar. 

Fine.

The barkeep pocketed the payment, then stepped away from her post. “I’ll show you to your room, then. Right this way.”

We trailed behind her as she guided us, looking everywhere but at each other. The artistry of hanging rabbit and pheasant bodies on racks had suddenly become the most fascinating subject in the world to me.

“Let me know if there’s anything else you need,” the barkeep said when we’d arrived in our room, but the undertone in her voice warned that we better not need a damn thing.

Nilandur and I thanked her in unison as she left us, shutting the door behind her. Though as rustic as I’d remembered it to be, our room was much cozier than the single ones—the tapestries pinned to the wooden walls and extra blankets folded on the bed were a nice touch. And the scent of lavender and mountain flower floated through the air, making me far too drowsy to seriously consider the predicament I was in.

I shuffled to one side of the bed and sat down heavily, armor, sword, and all. “You’re not gonna kill me tonight, are you?”

“Heavens, no!” Nilandur exclaimed from behind me, his horror forming a question mark in the air. “Did I give you that impression? I’m sorry if I did. But no, no killing from me.”

“You didn’t. I just had to make sure,” I answered, stifling a yawn.

“It seems like you’ve been through quite a lot.” I felt the bed shift as he carefully sat down.

“I have,” I answered around another yawn. “The whole ‘chosen one’ ordeal? Wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.”

“It had to have been a lot of pressure, carrying the fate of so many people on your back as you did.”

“It was. Terrifying, too. Sometimes I thought of sacrificing those lives, just so I could escape the terror of my own fate.”

My consciousness snapped back into my head, forcing me to realize what I had just admitted. I had never, _ever_ shared that thought with anyone before. And I hadn’t planned to. Yet, there it was, another truth laid bare.

“Fuck, I mean, I never would have. I never actually entertained the idea.”

“It’s alright, Taros. I’m sure many other people in your situation would have felt the same way.”

“Would _you_ have?”

He was silent for a considerable stretch of time, long enough for me to doze off with my…

“I don’t know,” Nilandur finally said, his voice shaking me awake. “I would have trusted in Auri-El’s plan for me, but I wouldn’t be above feeling the strain of that duty.”

“It was Azura’s plan,” I corrected.

“Pardon?”

“Azura,” I repeated. “She was the one who chose me. Without her, I would have been just another convict rotting away in a cell.”

“Ah,” Nilandur said. “I do remember reading about that. Is it true then, did you meet her?”

“I did. Twice.”

“Heavens,” he whispered, then cleared his throat in an attempt to compose himself. “What was that like?” he asked in a more nonchalant tone.

“It was like seeing my...” I began, but my throat tightened. “Knowing that she was watching over me...I never knew my parents. That was part of the prophecy.”

“I understand,” Nilandur said, and it was all he needed to.

At that moment, I could finally put words to what I had known since we’d come together that night, why I trusted him so wholly.

I’d known Nilandur in a life before that one. I was sure of it. His every word, every mannerism, every strand of his soul was something I’d witnessed a thousand times before.

“Have we met before?” I asked.

I needed him to recognize me, too.

He searched my face, but his expression didn’t show any signs of it. “I don’t believe so. If we had, I certainly would have remembered you...”

I tried not to let my disappointment show.

“Why is that?” I still couldn’t help but ask.

“Nerevarine notwithstanding...you’re very...oh, goodness…” he stammered, his cheeks and the tips of his ears flushing red. He tried to laugh, but it was a strangled sound.

“Very…?” I urged.

“I would have remembered you because I find you very handsome,” Nilandur finally burst out, immediately adverting his eyes.

I furrowed my brow and looked down at my leather-clad arms, turning them over as if to search for the hidden attribute that made him think that way about me. I was tall and muscular, but in the land of the Nords, that was no great feat. I’d been told once that I had the face of a noble, but I was never able to figure out what that meant. I had many tattoos, but the only ones he’d seen were the ones that ran down the sides of my cheeks. Besides, the Altmer had contempt for tattoos.

Had we known each other as lovers? Was that why he felt that way about me?

“How come?” was what I asked.

My soul begged his to see it.

He laughed, fully, that time. The question seemed to disarm him. “Does one always have to know why we’re attracted to another?”

I didn’t respond. If he didn’t know, I didn’t either. I wished he knew.

Love and sex were strangers to me. My former military life didn’t allow for them, and neither did my life as Nerevarine. There had been a woman in Morrowind, a single night, while I was drunk and crawling out of my skin with despair. Though I was far from the mer I was then, I knew that Nilandur could also only last one night. I wasn’t sure I wanted the same fate for him.

But he was not the same. Nilandur and I had forged a connection somewhere in a lifetime before this one, a deep connection. What a fool I’d be to waste another in this life. 

“Can I kiss you?”

“I would be quite disappointed if you didn’t,” he replied.

And so, I did. I leaned across the open space of our bed and cupped his cheek with the palm of my hand, pressing my lips to his. They were warm and sweet, like the sunlight that reflects off the morning dew. Cautiously, as if he were afraid his touch would break me, he reached up and held the back of my neck with one hand, the other pushing his body even closer to mine. It only took a moment for me to realize it, but in kissing him, I was returning to a place that I had known once before.

We had been lovers.

I was the first to pull away, but it took a great feat of willpower, as if my body rebelled against me, wanting to live inside that moment with him forever. Maybe even wanting more than that kiss. 

Nilandur looked stunned, swaying slightly as he balanced himself on an arm, eyes still closed. His tongue brushed over his lips like he needed to confirm my absence from them.

His voice came out in a murmur. "That was...so fam--" He paused. “We’ve never met before, I know we haven’t, but…”

He kissed me again. That time, the passion between us felt like the moons were crashing down upon the earth.

I threaded my fingers through his hair, pulling him as close as I could possibly have him. He closed the distance even further, swinging a leg over me so that he was in my lap. I moved my hands to his back as his arms wound around my shoulders.

I never wanted it to end. I wanted to push the sun further and further away from us so that it would never rise again.

My tongue slipped into his mouth, and his hands gripped my shoulders even tighter. His movements made me very aware of how hard I was, how close he was sitting, so frustratingly close.

“Nil…Nilandur,” I moaned into his mouth. “Please—”

There was no guesswork, no hesitation. One of his hands slid down to where I needed it, palming me through my pants. I groaned, digging my fingers into his back.

“Your armor, Taros,” he murmured. He didn’t say it as a command, but he may as well have.

Trance-like, I shucked my gauntlets off and tossed them to the floor with a metallic clatter. My sword was the next thing to follow. After that, Nilandur stood and guided me to my feet. When he sat back down on the bed, leaning on his hands, I knew what he wanted from me. And I was so happy to oblige. Removing armor was far from an alluring task—the many bits and pieces made it slow and arduous—but the way Nilandur watched me made it seem absolutely sinful.

Left, at last, in only my underclothes, I climbed back onto the bed. Nilandur moved with me, so seamlessly it was as if our movements had been choreographed for an era. He ended up underneath me that time. I straddled his hips, leaning over him and pressing my lips to his neck. His breathing hitched as I peppered kisses on him.

My desire came in such desperate swells, like it had been endlessly longer than the few minutes we’d been separated. I would know. The passage of time ordinarily meant nothing to me.

“I have to say,” I murmured against his skin. “You’re very handsome too, Nilandur.”

“That’s very…oh!” he gasped as I nipped him lightly, “…kind of you to say.”

I chuckled, moving to trace his jaw with my nose. “Not kindness. Truth.”

His lips found mine again, kissing me with an urgency that echoed the time we had so little left of. Above us, pale sunlight had begun streaming in through the windows.

My trembling hands moved to the belt holding his robes together. They fumbled with the buckle but eventually managed to get it unfastened. The fabric slid off his chest, exposing soft, beautiful skin. I couldn’t help myself; I broke our kiss to move my lips to his chest, drawing a faint line with my tongue down the center. Nilandur gave a soft moan, reaching up to undo my hair where it was gathered in a bun. Then, he rested his hands on the back of my head, guiding me further down his torso.

He was so gentle but so deliberate with his movements. Nilandur told me what he wanted, but it was never as a demand. He relied on the fact that I wanted to please him. And I did. I wanted to hear my name pass through his lips like it were a mantra, an unholy prayer. I needed to know exactly how I was making him feel.

I paused my advance when I reached the waistband of his pants. I pulled away from him, sitting back on my heels. Nilandur made a noise of protest, almost a whine. I held his gold eyes as I reached for the hem of my tunic, pulling it over my head, slowly, like the seconds had become stretched out into minutes.

“Heavens,” Nilandur murmured, pushing himself up on his elbows when my shirt laid discarded to the side of us. His gaze raked over my body, almost starry-eyed in his assessment. It was so hard to keep my ego tempered with him. He made me feel like a god.

“You say that quite a lot,” I told him. I traced swirling patterns over the smooth skin of his stomach; he very nearly trembled under my touch.

“I do, don’t I?” he answered, letting out a shaky sigh, eyes fluttering closed when he felt my fingers dip just below his waistband. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for. It’s utterly adorable.”

His lips curved into a smile. “I—I, well, thank you.”

I leaned forward, kissed him again with gentle reverence, then rested my forehead against his. My hands still lingered where they were before. “Would you like me to…?” I asked in a whisper.

“Yes, I would. Please, Taros,” he responded, words almost a groan.

I wasted no time in pulling apart the lacing on his pants, and _gods_ I could feel how hard he was underneath. Warmth spread in my stomach at the thought of that, how he was hard for _me._ Lifting my head up, I brought my hand to my mouth and spit into it. Nilandur watched, his face flushed with want, as crude as my technique was. Maybe he liked it that way. I reached back down and slid my hand into his pants, just barely grazing the tip of his head with my fingers.

“Taros…” his voice was choked, breath rising and falling in short pulls. “ _Please_ , please, I—”

I said nothing in response, only locked my eyes with his, as I let my hand finally wrap around him. He came undone at the contact, slumping back into the pillows with a low moan.

I pulled him through my hand in long, steady strokes, relishing in the way he melted under my touch. I shifted down so that I was hovering over his legs. Quickly, so that I didn’t disrupt the rhythm, I eased him out of his pants. Then, I bent down so that my lips pressed into the soft hair gathered above him. With a sigh, his hand came to rest, again, on the back of my head, fingers weaving through my hair. And again, it came as a request rather than a demand.

I risked a brief glance up at him, smiling when I saw the way he was looking at me: his face glowed, eyes heavy and endlessly deep like the wheat fields that stretched beyond the horizon. It was a look I knew, somewhere buried underneath the folds of a million old memories, that he had given me many times before.

“You’re so gorgeous like this,” I heard myself saying, and I knew that those words had also passed through my lips just as many times.

I wondered what else we had said to each other, what we had been through together. We had been lovers, yes, but that mere fact was nothing more than the surface. The world beneath that glimmered with richness and complexity. I could see the history he held in his eyes.

What had our names been?

I had accumulated many answers in my centuries, but those were not among them. All I knew was that we had somehow found our way back to each other, had deemed the other important enough that we were willing to trudge through the ether in search of them. It didn’t matter that the time we had together that night was nothing more than a whisper of smoke twisting in the air. Those precious few fragments were still a victory, a testament to devotion.

We did not separate until the sun had risen well into the sky, but eventually, the time did come to part.

In that lifetime, we were not meant to be together for any longer than one night. Our paths were to converge for only a moment, then spread back apart. But it was enough; I knew to be grateful for what we had been allowed.

“Sure you’ll be alright on your own?” I asked him as we stood outside the inn that morning.

He smiled. “I’ve made it this far. I’ll be okay.”

I nodded. “Take care of yourself, then, Nilandur.”

“You as well, Taros,” he responded. “It was…so good seeing you again.”

We stepped forward into an embrace. And as we held each other, I thought about how I would preserve that moment, how I would memorize the shape he took so that I could recognize him once more. I would never move on to the next life, but he would, and I knew that he would come again to find me.

“Until the next,” I told him, and then I let him go.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, again, to Topsy for the stunning character that is Nil!
> 
> For some Nil content directly from the source, check out their fic [Finding Mara](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23603380/chapters/56640835).
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> -find me on tumblr [here](https://airiat.tumblr.com/)-


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